Just Being

For years I taught with a man who always rubbed me the wrong way. We rarely interacted, but when we did it was never comfortable or enlightening. I don't want every interaction to be enlightening, but he just seemed so self-centered and manipulative that it was hard to even listen to his tone of voice let alone work with him on a committee.

Everyone else liked him. I'm not sure why. Generally it was women who liked him. They'd fawn over him when he was upset or seek his advice in difficult discussions. An outdoor-kind-of-guy, he wore his Gramicci pants, his latest high-tech wicking t-shirt, a stocking cap, and slippers. Yes, slippers. He'd cycle into work every day and after taking off his cycling shoes, those special numbers with clips on the bottom to hook into his equally special shoes, and put on slippers.

Before teaching, he was a rock climbing instructor and on his days off he climbs or rides competitively in cyclocross races. One day, during a faculty meeting, I watched him navigate the internet on his computer. He was looking at wheels for his bicycle. At the end of the meeting I asked him if he'd found the wheel he was looking for.

"Yes," he said smugly, "but it costs $1000 and this job doesn't pay me enough."

I knew how to joke around with him. I've worked with lots of men and I know how to navigate around their moods and arrogance. I never liked it though. I always felt a bit dishonest. Inside I knew I didn't like these men, but when they pulled one stunt or another, I rarely called them on it. It wasn't ever worth the effort.

How ironic then that I should find myself in my new job supervised by such men. Not all of them are as smug , but my direct supervisor has the same aura as this past teacher-colleague. It's not that he wears slippers or that he has all the women attending to his emotional needs, rather it's this personality of vague superiority that reminds me of my past co-worker.

Unlike my former teaching colleague though, I'm not invested in my supervisor's antics. He's an okay enough guy, but it's odd to be supervised by someone almost half my age who is more concerned about the latest outdoor gadgets than running a meeting smoothly or effectively.

In college I worked in a bike shop. I was surrounded by similar men, though most of my co-workers were really nice men -- gentle, thoughtful, and considerate. Lloyd, the owner of the bike shop, spent time with every employee making sure they understood expectations and providing detailed lessons when he felt they were needed. Through him I learned that, despite my SAT scores, I was very mechanical and spatial.

And there was Dennis, a quiet man who thought nothing of riding to Mt. Rainier and back (over 100 miles) on his day off. Later he'd have a terrible bicycle accident fracturing his skull to the point that he could no longer hear out of one ear and had very limited hearing in the other. Since our ears are our balance systems, his accident prevented him from ever cycling again. Most men would be crushed, but not Dennis. Instead, he worked for Lloyd for years until he became a bicycle salesmen, got married, and now has two great kids.

There was Daniel, the brilliant mechanic, who was truly arrogant and demanding, but if you handled him right, he'd be there for you whenever you needed him.

The other guys, most of whom I don't remember, came and went at the shop. They never lasted more than a month or two and like the former teacher I worked with and my current supervisor, they were more concerned about their own position in the world to be bothered by working on their attributes of kindness and humanity.

I'm learning a lot in this job. There is all the technical stuff -- how to use the cash register, how to "punch in" with an electronic time clock, how to tell the difference between objective lenses and exit pupils -- but I'm also learning a lot about myself.

First, I've learned to let go of irritations like outdoorsy men who see the world built for their adventures. While my supervisor may be annoying, he respects me if only because I am much older and have had, in his mind, a "real" career. He hasn't said this exactly, but the way he behaves around me it's pretty obvious I make him kind of nervous.

Next, I've learned that the rest of the world doesn't work at the pace of a teacher. I thought that teaching was like every other job in the world. To be successful at teaching one had to be organized, creative, and a diligent worker. Doesn't everyone else work like that? Apparently not. While I find myself always asking "what's next?" or checking my watch to see where I need to be and at what time, my co-workers at REI are very laid back. No one rushes. No one worries either about the job they're doing or about what is expected of them next.

While I find this a bit unnerving, I think it is the thing I've wanted for years -- less stress. It makes sense though, doesn't it? Messing up at REI might mean the loss of a sale, but it doesn't mean some 5th grader is going to fail at learning math concepts or writing paragraphs. I might not know how to operate a GPS system, but I know that I'm conscientious and competent, I know I'll be on time for work and work hard when I'm on my shift and that seems to be all that is expected of me.

Which is the last thing I've learned and in a very direct way it's helped me tremendously. I now can sleep through the night. Last night I woke up thinking, "How do I punch in a gift card item on the register?" Then I laughed myself back to sleep realizing that it didn't matter. I didn't need to solve this dilemma nor worry about it because if I didn't remember, I could always ask someone. In teaching, you're sort of an island unto yourself. There are co-workers, but they aren't in your classroom and they aren't responsible for the curriculum behind your door. They have their own worries and I met very few good teachers in my day who didn't have fitful sleep because of the responsibility they carried.

For years my sleep has been interrupted by endless worries that one student or another was failing or that a phone call wasn't made to a parent or an important contact. I flipped and flopped my way through sleep trying to hold all those things I had to remember -- that no one else had to remember about my classroom and students -- in some sort of organized list. I woke up many a-nights in a cold sweat realizing I hadn't completed the district paperwork or reminded my students of an important test.

No wonder my hair is gray.

Even today, a Monday day off, feels a bit luxurious. I have my list of to-dos, but none of them pertain to my job...well, one does, but it's minor. Instead, I can take the dog for a long walk, prepare a meal for my friends who are coming over tonight, take care of some laundry, and even nap on the couch if I so please. There aren't any papers to grade. There aren't any phone calls or emails to make to parents or volunteers. I don't need to plan the minute-to-minute details of the upcoming week in a classroom filled with hormones. I don't dread the amount of energy it will take to make it through a day or a week of teaching.

I can just be. It's a nice feeling. And when I allow myself to feel it, my blood pressure bounces down to that healthy level. Getting used to this kind of pace takes daily practice. I find myself trying to gear up for work, pacing around thinking I should be doing something important when really, there's nothing all that important to attend to, but that which I deem to be important.

For now it's baking some bread, writing a bit, brushing the dog, and perhaps checking out a new CD on iTunes. Then I'll switch out the laundry, make some guacamole for tonight, and fetch Ann from her teaching workshop. Finally, an evening with our dear friends and their energetic daughters, share in some good food and sweet dessert, and then to bed in preparation for a day on the floor with my young supervisor selling sunglasses to the gear-geek who is willing to spend $200 for a specific name-brand.

True, I make a whole lot less money, but I'm finding that sanity and relaxation have a very different price tag.

It's definitely one I can afford.